Stricken

Blessed to breathe, but I am choking on some tough surreal suggestions
Darkness knows and throws in risks, moving in from all directions
Smirking with a riotous flair through the panic stricken session

At the lion’s mouth I stop, then step slowly between clenching
Tasting sawdust on my tongue, breathing aching and the damned
Crippling practice of competing while my voice sounds like a lamb
The crumbled sheets are damp and my body is contracting

Saint-Saëns plays in my ears while my dry lips plead for safety
Get me, leave me, break me, bend me, mend me – please my love
save me – There’s no such thing as gentle fear, it attacks
and it leaves fractures – a most unwanted souvenir

The prolonged sound of a viola wakes me up, there is a view
It looks like a peace I know, looking over fields of clover
Drawn-out movements of a body going through the wear and tear
of the fickleness of fear, but with hope of noble rescues


© Monique (starfish_72)

Advertenties

Here

It is here that I hope for poppy-dazed days and probe my mind for poetry
It is here that my dreams bounce off walls and trip-dip-back down into dust
No more than a gust of wind it takes to announce their return

It is here I lay down a little roused heart in a body that bows down to aging
If my mind stops relating, I start escaping and make another night my own

It was here that terror and pain burned from the floor up to the ceiling
I had to deal with too many feelings and my pillow has learned of hurts
while it paddled a long winding river

It was here that matches splintered my mind and life grew diagonal
The sign said I was flammable and for a while my home was no longer
my own

It is here that safety and softness brushes my cheeks while I jump over
sensual fires
Patchouli and cedar put an end to endless tension of continuing days

It is here I give myself to myself and the world with my words and being
There is a healing in knowing there’s a space that’s left to dead silence
and longs for my return


© Monique (starfish_72)

Sabotage

Roll out dislikes that make
your spirit crackle – You primed
the road to delusions with ideas
that bruise you – Doorways
to darker chambers are made
by raising your defenses

Neglected in the wreckage of a
home, created of nails and chrome
Hatred won’t provide food for
plans – Your mind needs
preparation for wider lanes

The imperial crown weighs heavy
on your skull, but it’s there when
there’s no fair world to be ruled
We match fools and fairness
with encrypted concepts

Remove heat, strain thoughts
The dictator rages and prefers
association of action and
gratification – Give – The desire to
live was the desire to live no more,
but we’re here and it doesn’t end
with one more painful heart
Something good walks parallel
and you are made of this yourself


© Monique (starfish_72)

Anxious

My fears build futures unseen
by forgetting what’s been
There is no way to describe
how ties cut off light and
doom drums in narrow views

I am fragile and strong
by shaking up storms
I diverge peace to places
kept safe where my breath
delays, while I puff out clouds

Fangs talk about phantom signs
but the thoughts aren’t real
and the feelings that follow
swallow me urgently

I am the light and the fighter
get trained to protect and reclaim
Here to hold my mirror’s reflection
With candles and sickles I uproot
the mind and its fickle sides
The odd generosity of inviting
states, in which days get
confused with the nights


© Monique (starfish_72)

Pistils

Thick pollen dust sticks to my fingers
I do not brush it off, but leave it around
while it sets I calm down, I grow slowly
and uninhibited as that’s how it
happened to be – The lone creativity

Poems to recite, faces to be read
Tea leaves predict replaceable days
My mind can react in a cynical way
as if this flow is less than it should be
In nobody’s absence there is enough
rain and there are enough flowers

My thoughts and their crew muse on being
diffused to dimensions where I can draw
from a fair believing heart – Reality objects
as if self-deception and repaying darkness
should be battled alone by hands that have
mainly carried stars and a crescent moon
I lack arms to crusade and wind blows
through me

My eyes did not expect get blessed and
shielded by help from a foreign cloud
that has seen how castles can crumble and
shells filled with sand that the tide took out
It held petals now withered – I listen to
gentle breezes, while sensing swirling blizzards

Bit by bit I’ll rise from basic and profound
into something that blooms and I want
to bloom savagely – ’t is why I pretended
my fingers were perennial pistils

Here to plant warm soil below Oleander leaves
as this is where I’ll grow from – I gently care
for roots that would otherwise rot and drown
in the ripples of answers once asked for
and solitude to be basked in – I bid a goodnight’s
rest to perpetual doubts away from drought
and its wasteful companions


© Monique (starfish_72)

Complex

I fear complexities and hide
in darkness with my memories
Songs unlock in constellations
I think ahead without patience
on how my eyes will be read
Tomorrow by masses outside
exposed – I lost that sense of
obligation to the night in letting
go of it – The light I’ll make use
of it – Not betray it as I rest on it
My discomfort, it heard me
It listens and rubs obnoxiously
My song, this mind, my polarities
Thunder, keep breaking it – Heat
stop blending it – I feel it blinking
and I am breathing into it – Pluck it
up and cherish it dammit – I’m alive


© Monique (starfish_72)

Moon

The saint cries with tired eyes
Look at the wild fires – Hills
against a dark sky waiting for
a red moon revealing hours
I need weights of restless
feet waking up on soaked sheets
The sacred skies won’t fix it
Closer than breathing it sticks
to a heightened light – Guide me
Hide me under big grey wings
For now it can be that chosen
feel small and fragile holding
rosaries and counting to all
that see the order – The likes
of humanity and their alikeness


© Monique (starfish_72)